Kitchen Cleaning Tip # Whatever. . . .

After almost 20 years of housekeeping, you'd think I would know how to clean the kitchen floor.

Actually, I know perfectly well HOW to clean the floor. I just don't do it. Until I have to.

Sticking to the floor? Think about cleaning it, then ignore it a little longer. Maybe the daily dirt and dust will cover the sticky and it can wait a few more days.

Company coming? Clean the floor.

Until the other day when I made this discovery: If you drop something breakable on a ceramic tile floor where it shatters in all directions, sending its contents everywhere, and you have children or pets, you must clean the floor.

Of course, I learned this first hand -- three times!

Notice the use of the word "and." It must shatter AND you must have children. If I didn't have children or pets, I probably wouldn't have rushed to clean it up. I would have poured a cup of coffee, stepped over the mess, and sat down to watch a movie.

Now forgive me while I take this mundane event and turn philosophical.

This reminds me of how we humans take things for granted until we absolutely MUST deal with it. I think of relationships on auto-pilot, routines we can do in our sleep, things we don't even notice until they aren't there or something changes the routine. We get used to how things are. And in a sense we need that stability. But what happens when we get comfortable with something that isn't good for us? Or we forget to be thankful for what we have?

I count on my floor to be there every day, and thanks to the laws of physics it is. It cannot move or disappear. I walk on it everyday. And everyday something drips or splashes, dirt gets tracked in. Over time the floor gets dirty. But I continue through my days as if none of that is happening. Until I break or spill something or notice enough dirt that it can no longer be ignored.

At times I am as thoughtless about my relationships as I am about my floor. I deal with the crises, but what am I doing in between? Honestly? I'm thinking that I'm glad I have time to do what I want to do. I rest in the routine.

I know that if I cleaned my floor on a regular basis, whether or not it NEEDS to be cleaned, I would have a more organized and more frequently cleaned home. Similarly, when I take time to nurture relationships on an ongoing basis, I have stronger relationships for the long term.

This seems especially true of my relationship with God. I treat God more like my floor than like my friend. He's always there (like my floor); He's not going anywhere (He promised never to leave me or forsake me). I like that I can count on that. I need that foundation and stability. But at some point stability becomes complacency for me.

In the past, God has used a certain parable from the Bible, and in particular a song about this parable, to get my attention. I know from experience that when I read that passage of scripture in a study, or when a pastor uses it in a sermon, or when I hear that song (which is unusual, since it is old enough not to be played regularly), I need to sit up and take notice. Sometimes it has meant that there was something I needed to know or to change. Other times it seems that it was just a reminder that I needed to check in with Him.

I heard that parable in a sermon the other day -- after breaking 3 things in about week and a half and starting to think about this link between my floor and my relationship with God. I put off writing about it until now. I was trying to be witty and profound.

What made me sit down and write today?

I dropped something else on my kitchen floor.